


the breaking

by featherlessbiiped



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Mild Gore, Suicide, brief Destiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:35:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27956993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/featherlessbiiped/pseuds/featherlessbiiped
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 2





	the breaking

The fight with Lucifer had left its mark on all three of the survivors, and they knew it. Jack hadn't made it out alive, and Cas blamed himself for convincing him to fight. Sam still couldn't trust himself, and Dean had fallen back into his pattern of drinking his fears away. For months, they lived, broken and unable to trust themselves or the world. It wasn't long until Cas broke. He was still broken up over Jack’s death, blaming himself for Lucifer getting too close to the boy. Sam was still a danger, and Cas knew that Dean would never see that. He loved his brother too much, and he was never sober enough to realize that Sam was getting worse.  
One day, when Sam got home from a hunt that he had gone on alone, soaked in blood, he refused to tell Cas where it came from. Cas saw the empty look in Dean’s eyes when he tried to confront him about it. Dean only stared blankly at Cas, his tenth empty beer bottle in hand, not hearing what he was saying. That night, Cas snapped. He did it in the middle of the night when Sam and Dean were both asleep. Sam never felt a thing, Cas had made sure not to hurt him when he did it. He had planned on doing Dean next, letting him go gently in his sleep. He couldn't bear to hurt Dean, even if he had to kill him. Cas looked down at Sam’s body, forever stilled. The cut had been clean, and Sam’s pillow was already soaked with his blood.  
“I'm so sorry Sam. It's time for you to rest now.” Cas whispered, a single tear rolling down his cheek, his heart aching with having to kill someone he considered family.  
A crash of glass behind him made Cas spin, only to see a confused Dean. Dean’s confusion quickly turned to pain upon seeing Sam’s body, then hard anger. Stepping over the broken glass on the ground, he slammed the other beer bottle that he had been holding against the wall, making a makeshift knife, pouring beer all over his shirt.  
“Dean, wait--” Cas said, cut off as Dean swung the knife at him. Cas deflected the blade with his own, and Dean swung again. Again, and again, Dean swung his blade at Cas, before finally knocking the angel blade from his hands. Grabbing Cas by the neck, he pushed him up against the wall, his blade at his neck.  
“Why’d you do it. Why did you kill him?” Dean asked, his voice rough from the alcohol and his pain.  
“Dean… please. You don't understand. He… he was killing humans. He was a danger.” Cas managed to choke out, his hands ripping at Dean’s, trying to loosen his grip.  
“Like hell he was. He was my brother Cas. He was family.” Dean said, his voice cracking at the word.  
“So was I” Cas choked out, his arms going limp.  
“Cas, I’m sorry. I… I don't want to hurt you, but I have to. You made your choice. It's not my fault.” Dean said, his grip loosening, allowing Cas a little air.  
Dean let go of Cas’s neck, dropping him to the floor. He gasped for breath, as Dean bent and picked up the angel blade.  
“Dean please… you don't have to do this…” Cas said, crawling backward away from Dean.  
“Yes, I do,” Dean said, grabbing Cas’s collar and placing the blade against his neck.  
“Before you go, just one more thing.” Dean bent down, placing a soft kiss on Cas’s forehead. “I loved you....” he whispered, a tear breaking free and rolling down his cheek. He pulled the blade away, before plunging it into Cas’s chest.  
“I did too.” Cas managed to stutter out, blood pouring out of his wound.  
Dean held him till he was gone, then let his body fall to the floor. Numbly, he stood up and walked to the door. Glancing back, he looked at what had remained of his family, now lying dead in pools of their own blood. Closing the door behind him, he stumbled down the hallway.  
An hour and six beers later, Dean sat in the impala, on some highway that he driven to. As soon as he had parked Baby, he had let the tears fall. Not the single-tear crying that he had permitted himself before, but sobbing. Whole-body shaking, loud, tears streaming down his face, sobbing. The kind he had never done before, for fear that Sammy would see him. When the tears stopped, Dean pulled his gun out of his glove box, before placing it at the side of his head. It was only fitting that he went out like this, guns blazing, on his own terms. He knew it was time for him to join Sammy.  
He pulled the trigger, finally letting go of the life that had hurt him so much. The single shot echoed down the highway, an empty stretch of road, occupied only by a single black car, a 1967 impala, belonging to one of the best hunters in the world. That car that had housed so many memories. The final resting place for the man who had lived far too long to stay a hero.


End file.
